


you don't have to be a hero to save the world; it doesn't make you a narcissist to love yourself

by robyndoesntlikeyou



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Love Languages, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Hand-Holding, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Soft TommyInnit, Stargazing, dont ship minors you fucking creeps, i cannot stress enough that this is completely platonic, tiny bit of angst bc i simply cannot help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robyndoesntlikeyou/pseuds/robyndoesntlikeyou
Summary: It's easy, like it always has been. They're best friends. They're brothers.Sometimes, on nights like these, when neither of them can fall asleep, and the snow is silently drifting down outside, and the burning periwinkle of daybreak is too far to be a thought on their minds, they're two small, wandering souls, seeking direction, figuring it out all on their own. Until they find each other.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	you don't have to be a hero to save the world; it doesn't make you a narcissist to love yourself

**Author's Note:**

> again, in case you didn't read the tags: this is completely platonic. tommy and tubbo are minors, and shipping minors is fucking weird. don't do it. if you're searching for a ship fic for these two, you're in the wrong place, buddy.
> 
> on a much brighter note: very happy with this one! no its not a vent fic where would you possibly get that idea lmaooo im not touch starved hahahaha
> 
> this is a message to everyone who shits on male/masculine-presenting people who enjoy physical affection or who have physical touch as a love language: fuck you :)
> 
> title is from 'talk to me' by cavetown. hope u enjoy folks

"Tommy?" 

The low grumble of his best friend's voice broke him out of his haze, staring out the window, nose inches from the freezing glass.

"What're you doin'?" Tubbo mumbled, steps quiet, rubbing at his eyes half-heartedly and yawning. "Bit cloudy for star-gazing, 'nnit?"

"Oh... I was looking at the snow," he whispered, the warm dusk enveloping them forcing his voice down. It felt wrong to talk plainly.

Tubbo hummed in response, plodding over to where the blond sat. He cringed slightly, huffing something under his breath, before crawling up beside Tommy on the window seat.

Snow fluttered down, dusting over the ground, twinkling in the tame yellow street lamps that lined the street of apartment buildings and small businesses. 

They'd been living together for five months now. It had taken a while to move in and settle down, but with help from a few friends, they managed. All that was left to do after that was... well, live.

They fell into somewhat of a pattern: wake up, eat breakfast together while watching YouTube or television, go their separate ways to stream or record, join back up after work to laze around the flat, eat dinner together, hop into a Discord call with a few friends, then go to bed. It was natural, uncomplicated. Just what they had always done - except now, instead of having miles between them, they were only a few rooms apart.

They look into getting pets. They have dinner together, every night, without fail. Tubbo tries new baking recipes and Tommy taste-tests. They write up innovative coding challenges for videos. They go grocery shopping - it's fun, because it's Tommy and Tubbo, and they find a way to make everything fun.

They get on each other’s nerves. Sometimes, Tommy gets carried away streaming and Tubbo shouts at him for being too noisy. Sometimes, Tubbo forgets to pick up something really important at the store and Tommy gets frustrated with him. 

But even if they fight, it doesn't last long. The anger fades quickly, and the guilt sets in. Tommy buys ice cream and rents Tubbo's favorite movie. Tubbo does the dishes after dinner for the next few days. They both apologize.

It's easy, like it always has been. They're best friends. They're brothers.

Sometimes, on nights like these, when neither of them can fall asleep, and the snow is silently drifting down outside, and the burning periwinkle of daybreak is too far to be a thought on their minds, they're two small, wandering souls, seeking direction, figuring it out all on their own. Until they find each other.

Tommy is ashamed.

He's not a shameful person, nor modest or timid. Not in any way. But there is one thing; one thing about himself that he fights to conceal, because he hates it. 

Because whenever he would hold his mother's hand, the nasty kids at the playground would taunt him for being a mummy's boy. Because when his dad kissed his forehead before sending him off to school in the morning, his friends would snigger and mutter to each other.

Because it made him weak. Vulnerable. It made him spineless, an easy target. And he _hated_ it, so much.

Because no matter how hard he tried to fight it, to cut away from it, the toxicity of it all hauled him back below the water, chaining him to the seafloor, leaving him to sink and suffocate as the waves crashed far above his head and the sunlight blinked out.

Why did it seethe at him when Wilbur hugged him? Why did it force him to recoil when Phil so much as tousled his hair? Why did it make him hate himself when he habitually clutched Tubbo's hand?

It ached in his chest, persisting. Heavy like the bolt of a crossbow, steel and oak, unmoving. Without justification or commiseration. 

It would never allow him to admit how much he liked it when Wilbur put an arm around him, or when Tubbo held onto his hand in a bustling crowd, or when his mother kissed his hair when saying goodbye. 

So on unusual, wonderful nights like this, when he closes the gap between their hands, when he lays his head on his best friend's shoulder, when he feels an arm wrap around him, warm and steadying...

when he finally feels that ache begin to dissolve...

when that voice in the back of his head hisses and hisses and hisses, but its screams fall upon deaf ears...

he knows that he can survive.


End file.
